


in the morning waking up to terrible sunlight

by racheltuckerrr



Series: build it better [1]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Post-Canon, the path to reconciliation runs through miles of clouded hell (literally)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheltuckerrr/pseuds/racheltuckerrr
Summary: things stay awkward, persephone goes up-top, kicks back, hangs out with a dear old friend and contemplates her marriage.





	in the morning waking up to terrible sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to my lovely friend who both inspires and nudges me to write, you know who you are (ily)

They didn't make it.

Orpheus turned, and Persephone’s spirits turned sour. Despite her obvious fondness for the boy, his failure shouldn’t make a difference with her own situation; except…the spark that his song had created was undeniable. It was ancient and electric, and for the first time in so long, it made her want to reach out and...try. And now he’s failed, and it’s up to her and Hades to finish what he started.

Easier said than done, that.

“See you didn’t pack your suitcase yet,” Hades told her on her last winter night, but it sounded more like a question. Persephone was in her sitting room, tending to her succulents - the only plants that could survive the climate down there, and she loved them all the more for it.

“I’m takin’ the other one,” she replied quietly; bracing herself, and him. “The big one.”

He didn’t react in any way obvious, but he didn’t have to. She knew his body language, recognized the tension in every muscle as he held firm as marble in her doorway, unmoving.

“I see.”

He made a pitiable picture, her lord husband, and for the umpteenth time in the past few days (years, centuries, _millennia_ ), she wished it could be different for them. She stood from her perch on the windowsill and crossed the room to stand at his feet. Close, but not close enough.

“You came for me too early last time. I have to help ‘em get back on their feet,” she smoothed her fingers over his knuckles, and before she could think better of it, said, “can’t be a short summer again this year, lover.”

And that was that. She could feel his shell clamp tight shut again, just like it was before. Before they danced. Before the boy.

Before the _crack_.

“It won’t be.”

But the thing about walls is, once you’ve seen that first crack, once you know it’s possible...it’s only a matter of time until others follow, and the whole thing comes crumblin’ down. Question is, whether you get buried in the rubble before you've had a chance to see what's on the other side.

 

* * *

 

Persephone sat, looking out the window, her back pressed into the plush velvet seat as she contemplated the silence. And how much she hated it, which was more than she could say. It was the kind that made you think you’re goin’ crazy with it, and that wasn’t something she needed right now, on top of everything.

Hades was sitting opposite her and she could just about make him out in the glass, face stoic and looking anywhere but at her. It’s been like that since they boarded the train, and she reckoned it would stay that way for the duration if she left it up to ‘im.

Persephone studied her husband’s reflection, the lines and wrinkles and _time_ on his face; suspected there are matching ones on her own and wondered how they've gotten so old without noticin’. He looked like a stranger to her sometimes, and today, he felt like one too.

Back in the old (old, old, _old_ ) days, this rickety railroad car and these velvet seats had seen more sweat and skin and lovin’ than their bedroom has in the past few decades. Much more of their fightin' too, in more recent years. Maybe it was her liquor, maybe it was his bitterness and resentment that turned their usual outpouring of last-minute passion to a screaming match, instead of Persephone letting him take her one last time as they crossed into her mama’s territory; so very much in love and desperately tryin’ to hold on and stuck together like vines.

It didn't matter now, cause any way you were lookin’ at it, their train rides haven’t been a pleasant affair in a good long while. But they ain’t never been silent. It made Persephone’s skin crawl.

There was that ungodly familiar lurch as the train crossed the chasm between realms, and the spring goddess felt the first tingling of her earthy powers in the edges of her fingertips. She resisted the urge to try them out or look at her husband; felt more than saw him lift the handkerchief to his temple, the atmosphere of the above ground already getting to him.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Hades put his damned shades on, and this would be around the time she’d use her powers anyway, just to spite ‘im as she has so often done in the past. And while they ain't strictly tryin’ yet, it still didn’t feel right. Lot didn’t feel right these days and Persephone couldn’t even make sense of her own damn head.

She kept her eyes fixed as she stared out the train window at the nothingness passing by, as if that would tell her how to talk to her husband.

It ain’t right this silence, Persephone thought. She almost preferred the fighting; at least then they had something to say, better yet hurl at each other, no matter how painful. At least then she knew she was still on his mind, even if it was clouded with rage. She always thought them good at fighting, and once upon a time, good at making up too. _This,_ she had no language for, and neither, it seemed, did he.

But then she remembered the boy, and Hades, standing in front of her with a single red carnation blooming in his palm, _from death’s own fingertips,_ even after all this time and she thought maybe it’s not too late. _It can’t be_.

"If I wrote you in the summer," she blurted out, not at all smooth like she planned; trailed off until he met her eye, "would you write me back?"

Persephone looked at Hades expectantly. He looked back with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Whatever you want, lover," he finally grunted, solving nothing. Because that was just it. What _did_ she want? Damn her if she knew, other than _anything but this_.

But time kept a-crawling, and they rolled into the station eventually. Persephone tried not to jump out of her seat but didn't quite manage it going by the wince on her husband's face.

"Hades," she said and it sounded hoarse on her tongue, a reminder. She didn’t get much further than his damn name though, and she hated it, hated trying, hated failing and the anger propelled her toward the car door, his silence suffocating her.

"Lover," he called after her at the last possible second, typical Hades, and she turned on her heal, visibly deflating as the air left her along with the energy. "Forgot your coat," he said, holding the goddamn thing out between them like an offering.

She said nothing.

"I know you don’t need it up here, but…" he sounded uncertain, vulnerable almost, and she forced her shoulders to relax as her eyes met his. _Try,_ she told herself _._ "Yes?"

"I like knowin' you got something of mine with ya when…" _when_ _I'm not._ He didn’t quite say it, but it reached her all the same.

It was his wedding gift to her. The coat, and the kingdom. Thick as they come, her man.

"Give it here," she husked and snatched the coat back before he could, then surprised them both by throwing her arms around his neck and pressing herself along the length of ‘im, chest to chest.

He was stiff as a board, of course, but there was no mistaking the erratic thumping in her ear when she turned her face just so, laying her head over his heart.  _Still beatin’ then_...she did wonder. _Good._

Persephone took a big sniff of her husband’s sooty scent and pressed a quick kiss into his neck before stepping back just as quickly and turning around without a backward glance; completely missing the light blush that crept up gradually around where her lips touched his skin.

Trying is easier in the dark, even for gods.

Still, there was no denying the relief that passed her lips in the form of a good old sigh as she stepped off onto the platform, the heels of her boots hitting the ground with a click-clack as she took the arm Hermes was offering.

“Aight, sister?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye that coaxed the first spring smile out of her. Persephone nodded, answered with more conviction than she felt, “ _aight._ ”

 

* * *

 

 Persephone felt the chill of the earth under her boots as she walked, the buried roots crying out to her from beneath the layers and layers of frost; the result of another summer prematurely cut short. She shook her head but crouched down to get rid of her footwear to let her powers flow easier as she did what little she could on the remaining walk back to her summer home.

She made the usual rounds around her garden first, between the trees, through her fields, and around the riverbed; same as every year, greeting her children with gentle thumbs as she sent the first warm breeze their way; the real work could wait a few more days, but this was her means to let them know that their mother was home for the season. Let her own mama know as well by extension, which was just fine with Persephone. If she got her way, she had a whole six months to spend by her mother’s side this year and she was in no rush.

As for tonight, the goddess of spring had other plans anyway.

Crickets chirped and the sun hung low on the night sky by the time Persephone finished her trek up to the speakeasy on the little hill behind the village. Having just come from her mother's, her belly full of apple pie and her spirits somewhat lifted, the goddess opened the creaky wooden door and the bell atop jingled merrily, announcing to all the world her return.

“Look what the springtime dragged in! Our lady is back in the garden, folks!”

Persephone heard him before she saw him, turning in the direction of the voice that belonged to the person she came here to see. The owner of the joint lifted his cup in her honor like many mortals did before him on her way over, but he was no mortal, and he couldn’t hide that even if he tried.

Even if they hadn't grown up together in mama's garden, the striking blue eyes, strawberry curls and dimpled cheeks would give his parentage away to her, no problem. Not to mention his perfect skin, always so golden brown and darker in shade than hers even, on account of Persephone spending half her life away from the sun, while he was a full-timer, bronzed by Apollo's light all year round.

“Dionysus, brother,” Persephone smiled at her cousin in greeting. Unlike most others of her kin, he was a good bit younger than her, and unlike most of ‘em up here, she actually _liked_ him.

“You look good,” she told him, drawing him into a hug that was more comfort than choreography and she melted into it like sugar on a sunny day. “And I look right wretched, no need to state the obvious.”

“You always look dazzling, flower, even when you have no right to. I wasn’t gonna say nothin,” he grinned at her easily as they pulled away, and she found an immense relief in that after the emotional weight of Hadestown. “But alright, you do seem a bit...bleary. Pour us a cup, will ya?” he turned to the tapper on her behalf and Persephone wasn’t of a mind to stop him.

Night was young yet, and she was thirsty for a good time. And a good time she got.

Tables stacked in one corner, chairs arranged in a half-moon circle around the middle and they've got themselves a dance floor; men and women lined up to battle her moves and Persephone threw her head back laughing as she matched each step, stomping her boots to the ground so hard that even her husband must've heard. They were no match for her, and she jived to the music, hips swaying and green dress ruffling as she threw herself into it; it was almost enough to make her forget.

Once the last dancer conceded, bowing to her and heaving to catch his breath, Persephone hopped onto the barstool next to her cousin, smirking wickedly, allowing herself to bask in the glory of the moment.

But her victory was short-lived as she knew it would be.

"You may have fooled them with that killer routine, but I can see something's troublin' ya," Dionysus said, looking at her imploringly. "Could see it from the moment you stepped in here 'bout an hour ago, but I figured you needed a distraction."

" _Brother…_ " Oh, he knew her so well.

Between her marriage and her work, Persephone was a busy woman despite appearances; she didn't make it up here to his place on the hill quite as often as she would prefer, and she was only above for so long each year, less and less as the cycles repeated.

There was a reason she made it a point to stop by now, and the quality of his booze was only half of it.

"We both know I'm always good for a drink or ten, but you've got any old joint for that...you can say what you will about our neck of the woods, but we got those round here by the dozen. So, spill it, sister." He said, leaning forward, chin in his hand as he focused on her. "What's the old fool done now?”

And so Persephone proceeded to regale him with the whole gruesome tale, and they put away a half dozen bottles of honey ale between them, at least. But it’s not like she was on rehab.

Not yet, anyway.

She _was_ gonna have to start tryin’ sooner rather than later, and she reckoned than entailed not bein’ blackout drunk the next time she went down under; still, summer only just began, and the next winter was a long ways yet, assuming her husband kept his word.

"You ever think about leaving him?" her cousin asked when all was said and done, and it was a simple enough question, without any of the calculatin’ or venom behind it that her mama or any of ‘em others up here would infuse it with, if she ever let ‘em ask her a question like that.

And for some reason, it was the simplicity of it that made her laugh out loud, the way she used to, real rowdy and obnoxious, the way you would only laugh in the summer. Or rather, the way _Persephone_ only would, for longer than even she cared to admit.

"Don’t just think about it,” she grimaced, face settling into a grim line after her outburst, as she now mulled her words over carefully. “Do it every year. I’m doing it right fucking now, brother."

"In a manner of speaking,” he hummed. “But I rather meant for good."

That pulled her up short, _for good_.

"What like...a divorce?" She snorted.

As if that was a custom that their kind was in the habit of practicin’. Ridiculous. Sleep around and spawn with half the world, until the whole globe was full of their ilk? Sure. But ain’t no gods ever had a divorce, it was entirely unheard of.

Not...very much unlike her own marriage arrangement back in the day, Persephone realized. And since they already broke that rule, breaking another wouldn’t be that much of a reach all of a sudden. Not that she was seriously thinkin’ about it, mind.

"Yes, like a divorce."

She laughed some more and drank some more, the absurdity of it all too much for anyone to handle who still knows the number of drinks they’re on.

The thing is, as a rule, Persephone didn’t like to think about Hades down below by himself all summer long while she was livin’ it up on top, freedom incarnate. Their marriage wasn’t built on guilt, but she’d be lyin’ if she said it wasn’t a big part of it, and there wasn’t much point in giving herself even more grief about it when she could help it. And for when she could not, there was always the liquor.

" _Do you_ , flower?" the question came again, gentler this time, and her boozy mind conjured the images up anyway.

Hades in his office, working himself like mad, bent over paper stacks the size of his big old head, with no one there to tell him to cut it out.

Then another, as he slept on top of the contracts, not having made it to the bedroom, because she wasn’t there to drag his ass to bed. His neck was sure to be botherin’ him something awful the next day, she could tell, but her mind did not linger and she was glad for it, if only for the time being.

The next image was of her husband, alone in their great big bed, hand stretched out across the mattress toward the other, empty, side where his wife was supposed to be sleeping next to him; Persephone herself was probably either out drinking or worse yet, already passed out in a bedroom of her choosing, and as of late that bedroom rarely happened to be the one he was in.

It was a sobering mental image, and Persephone suddenly had trouble breathing, even up here in the birth of summertime, in a speakeasy with a cold bottle in her hand, sitting across one of her oldest friends.

But now that the thought was there, it wouldn't be ignored. Thinkin' bout it proper, she had to admit that despite all her grievances concerning her husband and how he's been behavin' of late, Persephone couldn't escape the feeling that she herself hasn't been the wife to him that she used to be, and no amount of blamin' and fussin' and resentin' was gonna make up for that.

The truth of it was that she didn’t take any part of the workload off his shoulders anymore like she used to back in the day, even if she shared the title as ruler which wasn’t very fair; she barely let him touch her, and even when she did it was usually all about her; and when despite all of that he still came for her early anyway she only scorned him and snarled at him.

And still she wondered how they got here.

"No," Persephone said as evenly as she could manage, suddenly holding back tears. “Never.”

 _I don’t have to think about leavin’ him,_ she thought with no small amount of alarm, wiping at the wet streak on her face that escaped anyway, _seeing as I already as good as did._

**Author's Note:**

> yes, there will be more...at some point :)


End file.
